


Collide (I)

by michaelscofields



Series: COLLIDE [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-21 23:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelscofields/pseuds/michaelscofields
Summary: ❝ So, what are you gonna do? ❞❝ Whatever it takes to get him back. ❞CastBrigette Lundy-Paine as Vera Newby · 'Edge of Seventeen' - Stevie NicksLuke Pasqualino as 009 · 'Silhouette' - AquiloJoe Keery as Steve Harrigton · 'Cast No Shadow' - OasisOlivia Cooke as Lucy JenkinsNico Mirallegro as Jerome EvansSean Astin as Bob NewbyMckenna Grace as 012Edward Norton as Scott JohnstonJon Bernthal as Joe ColemanThe rest of the Stranger Things cast as themselvesPlaylistside A ··· under pressure - queen ; demons - imagine dragons ; it's the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine) - r.e.m. ; someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic ; don't stop believin' - journey ; youth - daughter ; the gambler - kenny rogers ; angel by the wings - sia ; everglow - coldplayside B ··· shelter - birdy ; ain't no mountain high enough - marvin gaye & tammi terrell ; stand by me - oasis ; terrible love - the national ; the chain - fleetwood mac ; midnight city - m83 ; i want you back - jackson five ; saturn - sleeping at last ; somewhere only we know - keane





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any of the original Stranger Things storyline, characters or dialogue, they all belong to the Duffer Brothers.  
> I do own my original characters, plot and dialogues. And also the changes in the storyline.
> 
> Warnings:  
> This story will contain cursing and violence, among others. Read at your own risk.
> 
> A/N:  
> First of all, I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors you may find while reading this fic. I wrote it in English even though it isn't my first language so yeah.  
> And last but not least, this is an OC x Steve story. A slow-burn one, mostly because I wanted to make a development but also because this is my characters story. It's about them and how they, the main characters, end up in their situations.  
> That's it, hope y'all enjoy the reading!

**His heartbeat** was the only thing he could hear, along with the loud thoughts of the little girl that was sitting in the grass right by his side. There was no tremor breaking down their feet now, no alarm sistem pounding on his heads, no people rushing around as red lights flashed upon their heads. It was just the two of them, leaning against an old shed, trying to catch their breaths. He needed to choose what move was next. Running away? Not an option. He didn't even know where to start. He knew where they were though, Hawkins, Indiana. But he never had gone far from the complex fence before. How would he know where to go? Hiding seemed to be the best option at the moment. Hiding until he knew how to leave this town behind. 

"You feel better?" With concern on his voice, he looked down the child, his hand softly caressing her hair. She nodded, trying to hide the fear that was eating her up. It didn't work, he knew she was more scared than ever. As he got up, the girl imitated him and they both turned to look over one of the shed windows. Through the plain curtains they were able to see an armchair next to an empty table. "Maybe we can stay tonight." He looked at her, pointing at the window. She gave him just a little smile in return. "You tire-"

"What the hell are you doing?" An unknown male voice exclamed behind their backs as he took the backpack he were carrying off and stepped forward. The olive-skinned boy turned around, fastly pushing the kid behind him. Both of them tensed up and began to walk backwards, ready to run into the woods again. He didn't want any more touble, they had had enough for the night.

"Wow, hey. It's okay. I'm not gonna do anything to you, buddy." The teenager put his hands up to show his intentions. "I just- Well, I just got home and two people I've never seen in my life are standing in my backyard looking for something in my shed, at 11am, in some kind of hospital clothes..." He looked closer, cautiously. Their clothes were not from the mental hospital, he had seen his mother's patients a bunch of times. But neither were from Hawkins Hospital, he knew that. The child had a couple of dirty socks as footwear and the older boy's hands were covered with scratches. "Are you in trouble or something? Is, uh, she okay?" None of them answered, but the girl glanced at his baseball cap and he caught her frowning. "This, huh? I know, wearing a cap with your name isn't exactly my thing either, but they make us wear it at work."

_Jerome_. That was his name. The olive-skinned boy looked away for a moment, his eyes looking down the ink bellow his left wrist. He once had a name too, a real one. He looked back at Jerome. The boy didn't seem dangerous, apparently. But there was only one way to know for sure. He moved a little closer and, staring at him in the eyes, he focused all his attention on him. An awkward silence filled the place. And then he started to slightly shake as a trickle of blood dripped out of his nose, and everything around them was reduced inside his mind to just one thing, Jerome's thoughts.

The little girl didn't seem impressed but Jerome's eyes widened and his eyebrows quickly raised. "Shit. You're bleeding, your nose..." He went to pick his backpack and rummged into it, hoping to find any tissues. Sundays were always busy days at the bowley alley. People, young adults mostly, chose the last day of the week tocome and play around before ending the day at the cinema. Some Sundays, two opposite gangs from high school bet money on who would win and they usually ended up beating each other's asses. That was his favorite part. He loved to see Hawkins active, not dead for a change. The town's lack of action bored him to death, but he definitely didn't expect to encounter with something like this, even less on his house in the middle of the night. "Here. These crumpled napkins are all I got."

The boy used the back of his hand instead, not taking what he offered. He backed off, coming back to the child's side and taking her hand this time. Jerome sighed, his own hand falling back down. "Listen, I'm willing to help you if you need anything, especially her." He pointed at the kid with his chin. "I've been in trouble before, I know what it's like. But you need to stop being a jackass, okay? I don't think a lot of people would help a guy who broke into their property, especially with these clothes. You're lucky no one here has called the police, my neighborhood isn't the warmest place on earth." He threw the napkins back on his bag and waited to see if the other responded. Nothing. "Look, my mom would murder me for letting some strangers in, but she doesn't live here anymore, so. Besides, I'm not gonna let a child freeze out here."

The older boy studied the situation. There was nothing to worry about with Jerome, that was for sure. He wasn't one of the bad guys. In fact, he probably wasn't even aware of what happened back on the place they escaped from just a few hours ago, as well as the rest of the world outside those walls. He looked down the little girl one more time. What else could he do? He didn't have much of a choice. They were going to hide inside his shed anyway. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea. Staying the night, a couple of them even, if the kid needed so. He could try and ask Jerome for help to get out of Hawkins. He sighed. The less he could give him was his name, sadly it wasn't going to be the real one. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't remember. "Nine." He pointed at the number tattooed right bellow his left wrist. "Call me Nine."

 


	2. CH 01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any of the original Stranger Things storyline, characters or dialogue, they all belong to the Duffer Brothers.  
> I do own my original characters, plot and dialogues. And also the changes in the storyline.

**Fleetwood Mac's Monday Morning**  was playing through the girl's headset, the beat rumbling loudly in her ears as she murmured the lyrics, her bicycle leaning against one of the multiple trees that surrounded the neighborhood while her skateboard crashed against the asphalt road that led to Hawkins High School as she waited for her friend to meet her.

Vera Newby met Jerome Evans on a sunny summer afternoon, a couple of weeks after she arrived in Hawkins, when Stacy Evans and her son went to RadioShack hoping they could get fixed an expensive antique radio that some friend of Jerome had broken that same morning. That friend was Steve Harrington. She was introduced to him days later when Steve Harrington's father had sent him to the Evans house with enough money to cover the bill. Jerome wasn't part of Hawkins high school popular crew. He knew people here and there and he got along with pretty much everybody, which made him a recognizable person, but not a popular one. Popular people didn't hang out with average people.

She took her headset off and picked up her bicycle as she saw Jerome approaching her with his, a hand on the handlebars and the other holding something. "Your house is literally three minutes away from school and yet you manage to be late. How's that even possible."

The boy abruptly stopped by her side, a soft laugh escaping from his lips. He passed his fingers through his hair and adjusted his sunglasses with his free hand, handing a folded pancake to Vera. "I was making breakfast and I forgot what time was it. My bad, tiger. Let me make it up to you."

"You only make breakfast when you're not alone. Didn't your mom leave yesterday?" She took the pancake and gently unfolded it. It was a blueberry pancake. A twinge of nostalgia ran over her body and her appetite vanished. She had lost the among of years that had passed since the last time she ate blueberrys. She did remember something though, he was still around by that time. "I'm not really hungry, J. Give it to Lucy, she'll glady take it if you're the one who's offering it ." She handed it back, nudging the boy with her elbow.

Jerome's answer to the last part was a soft smile he managed to hide from her. He watched as Vera took her skateboard and climbed on her bike. "Yeah, and she did. It isn't her. I have company." Vera frowned at his response, and he immediately regretted saying that. It wasn't his call to tell anyone about Nine and the little girl. Maybe if he told anyone, he could be putting a target on the kid's back. Or maybe he could endanger Vera or anyone he mentioned them to. The only people he could mention them to was the police, and he wasn't even sure if the trouble they were running from was the own police. Plus, Jerome didn't really like cops, not even the only one he could stand, the Chief. "And by that I mean Charles. My grandpa is in town!"

"No way, really? I haven't seen him in years. Tell him I say hi. How's he doing?" Charles Evans was Stacy's father. Since his wife died, Charles decicated all his time to travel around the country with their camper, visiting all the places his wife couldn't before the cancer took her away. He usually sent his grandson postcards of every big city he went to and every summer, Jerome spent two weeks with him in God only knows what city he was staying in.

"He's fine. You know, he brought me a postcard of New Orleans' French Quarter this time. He'll stay till the weekend to see my mom. After that, he'll probably leave and never come again in another four years." From all the bullshit he just threw up one thing was true, his guests had to leave before his mother came in the weekend, then his hospitality would be over. Hopefully, he should have found a way to help them before that happened.

"Holy shit, tell me he visited Marie Laveaux's tomb. There's no way you can go to New Orleans and leave without visiting it." Vera made sure her skateboard and her backpack were secured on her back and started to pedal.

"You can't live a day without mentioning your creepy witchy things, can you?" Jerome carelessly laughed, sprinting after her.

"Yeah, go on. Laugh at me, prince charming. You know very well I'm dead serious about this. Witchcraft is real whether you wanna believe it or not. But if we have to keep up with your baseless Hawkins' conspiracy theories, you have to deal with my crap." She arrived first to the bottom of the downhill that leaded them directly to the school parking lot. "And by the way, I have proof of it. Stevie Nicks herself is an actual witch and no one can tell me otherwise."

★✯

The Evans' living room smelled like incense and lavender. It was a nice smell, very different from the lemon smell of his old bed sheets. Jerome had turned on the television and left some comics down the table, next to the breakfasts leftovers. An hour later, Nine was still looking at the television, not watching anything particularly, just glancing at the screen and all the colors that emanated from it. He had never seen a television back on the labs, but from what he was able to remember, the last time he watched something, it was in black and white.

There were family pictures on top of the fireplace and landscape paintings hung on the walls. He got up, his eyes wandering from the television to the biggest picture in the middle of the fireplace. It was a picture of a little child, with a young woman and two elderly people, all of them smiley and happy. It had a caption written on the photo frame, 'Family matters'. Nine's lips formed a sorrowful smile as he looked away, searching for something else to distract himself.

His blonde little friend had fallen asleep again as soon as she finished her breakfast and now was leaning on the other side of the couch, cuddling a purple pillow Jerome had given her last night.

All the comics Jerome had left to read shared the same title: 'Daredevil, the man without fear.' Jerome said they told the story of a gifted blind man that worked as a lawyer by day and saved people by night. He also said that the man was his favorite hero. Nine wondered if the world would think he was a hero too if they knew what he could do. He didn't think so. Unlike those comics heroes, he had used his gifts to hurt people.

 _—_ _"Nine, the man sitting in front of you is Jacob Stewart. He's one of our newest men. You may have seen him before in some of your previous sessions. He has volunteered to help you." Martin Brenner motioned and a boy in grey clothes stepped into the room with papers and a pencil to put down the table. "We did such a good job till now, Nine. On phase 1, you learnt to reduce the voices in your head to just mere whispers, and also to interpret said thoughts. And today, if everything turns out well, we will officially close up phase 2. So don't try to do anything stupid as you did last time, son." Dr. Brenner adjusted the cables that were placed in Nine's head to monitor his brain activity. "Have you memorized all the sentences?" Nine slowly nodded, looking straight at the volunteer. Dr. Brenner then headed to the door with a successful smile on his face. "Perfect, let the test begin."_

 _Jacob Stewart_ _felt_   _the_   _weight_ _of_ _the_ _world_ _over_ _his_ _shoulders_ _._ _Subject_ _number_ _nine_ _was_ _one_ _of_ _the_ _most_ _difficult_ _to_ _read_ _._ _When_ _he_ _volunteered_   _last_   _weekend,_   _he had_ _thought_ _it_ _would_ _be a_ _good_ _chance_ _to_ _make_ _himself_ _visible_ _to_   _his_ _boss,_ _to_   _stop_ _being_ _more_ _than_ _a simple_ _rookie_ _._ _But_   _now_ _he_ _wasn't_ _so_   _sure_ _he_ _had_ _made_   _a_ _good_   _choice_ _._

 _Nine_ _focused_ _all_ _his_ _faculties_ _._ _Some_ _people_ _were_ _harder_ _to_ _control_ _than_ _others_ _. And he_ _was_ _about_ _to_   _discover that_ _Jacob Stewart_   _was_ _part_ _of_ _the_   _easy_   _ones_ _. He_ _could_ _hear_ _how_ _excited_ _yet_ _scared_ _the_ _scientist_ _was, just like he saw_ _the_ _fear_   _in_   _the_ _eyes_ _of_ _the_ _last_ _person_ _that_   _had_   _volunteered to 'help'_ _._

 _Dr._   _Brenner_ _and_   _the_   _rest_ _of_ _his_ _closest_ _team_ _watched_ _with_ _curious_ _eyes_ _through_   _the_ _tinted_ _window_ _from_ _the_ _observation_ _room_ _. Nine_ _had_ _started_ _to_   _work_ _, he_   _was_   _shaking_ _and_ _his_ _nose_ _bled_ _from_   _both_ _orifices and they knew_ _it_   _was_   _taking_ _him_ _a_   _really_   _huge_ _effort_ _to_   _perform_ _the_ _test_ _._ _Jacob_ _Stewart's_   _eyes_ _had_ _no_   _pupile_ _now_ _,_ _they_   _were_ _all_ _white as he_ _quickly_ _wrote_ _down_ _the_   _paper_ _with_ _a_   _messy_   _handwritting_ _._ _When_ _he_   _finished_ _,_   _and_ _still_   _u_ _nder_ _Nine's_   _compelling_ _,_ _the_ _scientist_ _threw_ _the_   _pencil_   _and_ _turned_ _around_ _, tightly_ _pressing_ _the_   _paper_   _againt_ _the_   _tinted_   _window_.  _'I will_ _remember'_   _was_ _written_ _all_   _over_ _the_ _paper._ _The_   _pain_ _increased_ _and_ _Nine_ _knew_ _he_   _had_ _reached_ _his_   _own_ _limit_ _, he_ _needed_ _to_ _stop._ _With_ _a_ _last_   _effort_ _, he_ _took_ _the_ _monitor cables off_ _his_ _head and_ _threw_   _himself_ _against_ _the_   _chair_ _,_ _closing_   _his_ _eyes_ _at_ _the_ _same_ _time_ _the_ _volunteer_   _scientist_   _fell_   _unconscious_   _to_   _the_   _ground_.  _The_ _experiment_   _was_   _over_ _._

 _Martin_ _Brenner_ _sighed_ _from_ _the_ _other_ _side_ _of_ _the_ _room_ _,_ _looking_ _at_ _Nine_ _with_ _disappointment_ _._ _Where_ _he used to see a_ _boy_ _that_ _could_ _do so_ _much_ _, a_ _potential_ _pupil_ _,_ _now_ _he only saw_ _another_ _experiment_ _subject_ _,_ _another_ _of_ _his_ _many_ _weapons_ _. "_ _Lock_ _him_ _up_ _." He_ _watched_ _the_ _paramedicals_ _t_ _aking_ _over_ _the_ _room_ _and_ _aggressively_ _lifting_ _Nine up, who_ _was_ _too_ _exhausted_ _to_ _fight back_ _. "_ _And_ _help_ _that_ _poor_ _young_ _man_ _,_ _for_ _the_ _love_ _of_ _God_ _."_   _He_   _adressed_ _pointing_ _at_ _Jacob Stewart as he_ _left_ _the_ _observation_ _room_ _to_ _go_ _to see_ _the_ _next_ _subject_ _._

✯★

Jerome picked up the telephone, leaning against the kitchen counter as he dialed Steve Harrington's number. Nine and him had barely exchanged seven words since he let him and the kid stay last night. After Nine took a shower and Jerome gave him some of his old clothes, he went straight to the guest room and only came out in the morning, when the girl made Nine asked Jerome if she could have anything to eat. She had barely pronounced anything but monosyllables, but at least she didn't completely ignore him. As they had been proving throughout the day, they weren't dangerous. If they were, he'd be screwed by now. He didn't recall where but he could swear he had seen their wrist tattoos somewhere before.

"Hello there, stranger. Who's this?" Steve Harrington's energetic voice raised up on the other side of the line, a football game could be heard through some radio.

"Hey, you moron. It's Jerome. Turn off that thing and listen." He overheard Steve laugh as he turned the volume down, refusing to turn it off. "Listen, we'll have to cancel today's meeting. I have last-minute company so I need to stay at home."

Steve laughed noisily again against his telephone. "Today's  _meeting_? Geez, you're so dramatic, Jerome Junior. All you do is letting me borrow your last year notes. And sorry, buddy, but they're pretty shitty."

"Well, you haven't failed any math test you've taken so far thanks to my notes, have you? Exactly, you haven't. Thanks to  _me_." Jerome emphasized, playing with the phone's wire. "Anyway, come to my house tomorrow after class before I leave, okay?"

"Sounds cool to me, either way I was gonna kick you out sooner than usual. I, hum, I have a date later." Steve's tone changed from playful to soft in a matter of seconds.

"With Nancy Wheeler?" Jerome waited for an answer, but he got none so he took the silence as a yes. Steve and Nancy Wheeler had been hanging out in secret for a couple of weeks that he knew. He saw them last friday at the end of their extracurricular classes, heading to the parking lot, to get Steve's car he guessed. It was good to see Steve taking things slow and seriously for once. "On a Monday? Sounds weird."

"Oh yeah? Now who's talking? You said you have  _company_. I'm assuming it's not your grandfather since he's not even in the country. Let me guess. Jenkins, right? " Steve teased, raising his voice on purpose, regaining his playfulness. Jerome's crush on Lucy Jenkins was no secret for Steve. He had known for years now, and he had tried to convince Jerome to ask her on a date but Jerome never did before. He said it was too risky, that if their feelings weren't mutual it would ruin the whole friendship.

"It isn't her but just so you know, I, well,  _we_  have a date this friday." Jerome smiled to himself when Steve started whistling and shouting. "This morning at the cafeteria before fourth period..."

Meanwhile, with his back against the bed headboard and a little blonde head leaning on his chest, Nine was finishing reading the child the last comic they had left. But he wasn't paying attention to the comic story, his mind was immersed on his own story. One day had almost passed and he still had no idea where to go exactly. He didn't have any money or food, or own clothes to begin with. They didn't even have a place to go to or stay.

Nor in a billion years could have imagined he would be on the outside, out of the white walls of the labs. What he didn't know was that being mentally free would take more than a break out. Dr. Johnston had helped him try to recover the memories they took away from him, and for that alone he had been exposing himself to get killed. Yet, Nine was far from fully remember how his life was before the experiments.

Jerome's unintelligible voice increased inside his head, dismissing his own thoughts. Why did people think so loud sometimes? Nine sighed, closing the comic book. He softly pushed the girl aside and stood up to open the door. Silence was all they could here. He frowned, turning to the girl. "Be right back, okay? Stay here." He adressed her, stepping out of the guest room. He passed by Jerome's room, no trace of the teenager there. He marched downstairs. The large living room was empty as well and then he heard. Jerome's voice came from the kitchen. Nine's mind went wild with the thought of someone else being on the house and he soon found himself running towards the kitchen. He found Jerome alone, talking on the telephone.

"No, no, no, no. No phones." A confused Jerome turned around when he heard Nine shout, the telephone still on his hand, Steve Harrington saying something they couldn't hear on the other side of the line. "You need to hang up. Now." Nine, who was now entering the room, demanded in a gasp.

"Nine, wh–" Freaking out, Nine took the phone from Jerome's hands and hung up for him, crashing the object against the kitchen counter Jerome was leaning against. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I said  _no_  phones."

 


End file.
